


cause these words are knives and often leave scars

by naruhoe



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Past Highwayman!Martin, Sexual Content, Voice Kink, but not very graphic tho, v short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naruhoe/pseuds/naruhoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little something featuring Daud/Martin that I wrote after playing the DLC and listening to how incredibly sexy Daud's voice is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cause these words are knives and often leave scars

I.

 

 

Daud's voice sounds like sex. So cliché, but Martin doesn't know of any other way to describe it. It is like sex, like the clink of coin, like the bitter, costly cacao imported from Serkonos. There's this gravel: a sandpaper scrape engrained into every syllable, but Martin hears only the inherent command to drop to his knees, and bare his neck (He doesn't.). It's  _decadent_. Despite the distortion caused by the whaler mask the man sometimes wears, the danger in the assassin's voice is as clear as ever. It's hard to miss, really, much like the sharp, steel tip of Daud's crosshatched blade.

 

 

II.

 

 

Martin knows he's in too deep. The High Overseer himself brought down by the sound of this heretic's voice and the Void tainted brush of that same man's hands against Martin's throat. Martin has something for Daud's hands. Hands which are accustomed to the gun, the knife, and the pull of the Void. Hands which have spilled the blood of nobles, and men, and even an Empress. Martin can hear his mark  _hum_  with some twisted power whenever Daud's ungloved hand strays too close to his ear, and some, sick part of him wants to lean closer and _inhale_ the sharp, ozone scent of the Void- the scent that hangs in the air where Daud appears as if out of nowhere- but he flinches away instead, lip curling in distaste for his own thoughts.

 

 

III.

 

 

Daud knows it too. He isn't blind. He sees the way Martin shakes himself apart beneath _his_ touches when Daud whispers the things that make Martin _whine_ and arch into the assassin's hand. He hears his breath catch, raw and ragged, just like that first night when Daud heard the man's breath shudder out from under his golden Overseer mask, so he barked out a harsh grate of bitter laughter and said: 'Are you going to kill me, Overseer? Burn me to ashes and make me confess my sins? Well- we're going to be here for a long time.' 

 

 

IV.

 

 

Daud thinks that the sight of Martin on his knees is one of the prettiest he's ever seen. He's a dangerous man, this highwayman turned to faith, all scarred flesh and silver tongue- the remnants of his past exposing themselves in those old, ugly slashes and the bullet wounds, unevenly stitched and long healed crookedly across his skin. 'High Overseer-' Martin shudders when Daud growls those four, simple syllables into his ear, and the noises he makes after he's been sated are lovely: dark, and wrecked, and edged with something that sounds an awful lot like desperation, Morley brogue creeping into the edges of his syllables.

 

 

V.

 

 

Martin isn't the only one who's in too deep.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are appreciated!


End file.
